


Cupcakes

by hollyand



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baking, Cupcakes, F/M, Fluff, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 18:05:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10496583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyand/pseuds/hollyand
Summary: Written for the following prompt on Tumblr by @selfmadeelf:Modern AU. Merrill participates in a local baking competition, and everyone is head over heels in love with her special Dalish cupcakes. One of the judges, Carver Hawke, reluctantly attends the event because his mother is the president of the local Baking Society... and might have fallen for more than her baking skills.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [I_hate_mages_No_you_dont](https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_hate_mages_No_you_dont/gifts).



Merrill was _so_ nervous. She’d been worrying about the Kirkwall Baking Society’s annual summer fête all week; and she was only relieved that the little cupcakes she’d baked yesterday – half of them pastel pink, the others baby blue – still retained their round shape and smooth appearance in the tin she’d carried them in. Even the delicate white halla icing designs on top remained, fortunately, intact.

So far, the large, boldly striped, red-and-white canopy above their heads had kept the worst of the sun off Merrill’s Dalish cakes, and Merrill had deliberately placed herself on a table near a large fan that was working overtime to keep the marquee’s inhabitants cool – much to the annoyed glares of some of the other bakers. She desperately hoped her own delicacies still retained their taste and texture for the judges, especially on such a scorching hot day as this.

Maybe she should try one? If she could sneak one into her mouth before the judges got here? Just to check they were still all right? Not that she expected to win or anything; but it would be a disaster if the judges really hated her cakes. Or worse still – what if she made them all very ill? Then they’d all have to go home sick, and the fête would be called off, and she’d be banned from the event forever, and…

 _Calm down, Merrill! Breathe deeply! Everything will be alright_.

Maybe she should just try one of her own cakes anyway, Merrill told herself, surreptitiously glancing around her to make sure no-one was looking as she sneaked a blue cupcake into her hand. Sure, she’d have one less to sell after the judging was over, and she’d have to be quick before someone saw her and accused her of cheating – but at least she’d know if they were as good as they were yesterday evening, and…

‘These your cakes?’

Merrill shrieked and tried not to jump several feet in the air at the man’s sudden voice.

‘Um, yes?’ she squeaked, feeling her face redden as she looked up at the man who’d caught her in the act.

He looked surprised, but not as surprised as Merrill was; leaving aside the fact that she somehow hadn’t seen him approach – and someone as tall as the dark-haired man now standing in front of her was hard to miss – dressed as he was, in jeans and a tight T-shirt that seemed to sculpt his muscular, gym-honed figure, he looked like the last person Merrill expected to find at a baking competition. Maybe he’d got lost?

Merrill cleared her throat and attempted a smile before she spoke again. ‘I mean – yes, these are my cakes. They’re Dalish, you see. I thought if I stayed near the fan, the halla icing wouldn’t melt, and I wouldn’t want them dripping everywhere, and…’

The man simply stared at her. His eyes were very blue, and very unnerving, Merrill decided; maybe if she kept babbling, he would get fed up of listening to her and go back to wherever he came from.

‘Well, anyway,’ she carried on, cupcake still awkwardly in her hand, ‘I assume you’re one of the other bakers?’

‘Um, no,’ he answered. ‘I’m Carver Hawke. I’m one of the judges.’

‘Oh! Right,’ Merrill said, feeling her face go red again. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I – I suppose,’ she added, holding her hand out sheepishly, ‘this cupcake is for you to try, then.’

Carver stared at the cupcake in her outstretched hand, but he didn’t take it. ‘Save it for me in a minute,’ he eventually said. ‘When the judging starts.’

‘How did _you_ get to be a judge?’ Merrill wondered; she only realised she’d said it out loud when he answered.

‘My mother’s the president of the Kirkwall Baking Society. She made me come along.’

‘Oh,’ Merrill replied, eyes scanning the room; she recognised Carver’s mother, Leandra, and some of the other judges, sitting at the table on the podium at the front, chatting and laughing with some of the other bakers. _Oh Merrill_ , she chided herself, _why did you have to say that out loud? You really say the stupidest things sometimes_.

‘Anyway,’ Merrill said, putting the cupcake down, ‘you probably want to go and judge. Do the judging, I mean. Of the cakes. And I’m rambling, sorry…’

‘Right,’ Carver said, and to Merrill’s astonishment, it now seemed to be his turn to go red. Maybe the area she’d chosen to set her stall up in was hotter than she thought. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name…’

‘Oh, I’m Merrill!’ she answered, as brightly as she could. ‘I’d shake your hand, but it might be covered in cupcake, and you don’t want that!’

‘Merrill,’ Carver repeated, almost as if to commit her name to memory. He fixed her with a look that Merrill didn’t understand, but it made her feel all hot under her summer dress in a way that had nothing to do with the sweltering temperatures. ‘Nice to meet you. I’ll – I’ll talk to you later.’

And with that, he walked off; and Merrill curiously noted that he headed straight for the podium where the other judges were seated. She’d expected that he, like the other judges, was simply trying to make small talk with all the other bakers under the marquee; perhaps the fact that he didn’t talk to anyone else was a sign that the judging was about to start.

Merrill barely heard Leandra’s welcome speech when she stood up and welcomed them all to the summer fête’s baking competition; she could feel Carver’s eyes on her no matter what she did or where she tried to look. Even when she thought he wasn’t staring at her, she would look at him and he was; their eyes would meet and Merrill would quickly look away again. Maybe he saw something that offended him? Maybe he didn’t like the fact that she was Dalish? Or maybe he wasn’t staring at her at all, and staring at someone in her general direction?

Merrill looked around her, but it wasn’t obvious who else Carver could be looking at. Men and women were gazing rapturously at the podium as Leandra spoke, all keen to show off their own baked goods. It was confusing, Merrill thought. Maybe Carver didn’t realise staring was rude. Or maybe his mind was miles away, and he didn’t even realise his eyes had seemingly come to rest on her face.

‘And now,’ Leandra announced, smiling graciously at everyone in the tent, ‘as President of the Kirkwall Baking Society, I declare the judging open!’

Merrill started to wish she hadn’t come here on her own as the judges went round sampling the other bakers’ goods; all the other bakers chatted to family and friends as they waited, while Merrill sat on her own, fidgeting and waiting for it to be all over. Her eyes met Carver’s every now and again, and at one point she overheard his mother talk to him.

‘Carver,’ Leandra hissed, ‘at least _try_ to look more enthusiastic, dear.’

‘You were the one who made me do this, Mother. Not that I mind trying cakes… but all this judging stuff isn’t for me. I already told you.’

‘Well, Bethany managed to do this last year without complaining. You could at least try _not_ to scowl in front of all these people.’

They arrived at Merrill’s table, and their argument subsided immediately. Merrill tried to smile as politely as she could; Leandra returned her smile equally politely, and even Carver seemed to manage a slight smirk (or was it a grimace? Merrill wasn't sure, but it looked awkward), despite his surly attitude just now.

‘I’m Merrill,’ she introduced herself. ‘And these are my Dalish cupcakes.’

‘Fascinating,’ Leandra said. ‘I confess, it’s been a long time since I came across any Dalish cakes. And – are those halla decorations? They look _delightful_.’

‘Thank you,’ Merrill said, trying to ignore the way Carver had fixed his stare on her.

‘Look at these cupcakes, Carver,’ Leandra said, turning to her son and nudging him; her elbow met Carver’s belly-button, but he didn’t even flinch. ‘Aren’t they lovely?’

‘Very cute,’ Carver agreed, not taking his eyes off Merrill.

‘Well, then,’ Leandra continued, as if determined to get the conversation back on track, ‘the other judges will be over soon, Merrill, but do you mind if my son and I try your cupcakes before they get here?’

‘Of course,’ Merrill said, picking up a pink cupcake to hand to Leandra, but the older woman had already taken one of her own – leaving a slightly embarrassed and nervous Merrill to hand the pink cupcake to Carver. He had very large hands, she noticed, and her slim fingers brushed against his palm as she placed the cupcake in it – and when his hand grazed hers in return, as if he’d wanted it to linger there, it made her feel all warm and soft inside in a way that left her confused.

‘Thank you,’ Carver said, and Merrill blushed under his gaze.

‘Oh, this is _delicious_ ,’ Leandra declared, putting a hand delicately over her mouth as she swallowed. ‘Carver, dear, you really must try this.’

Carver was chewing his own cupcake thoughtfully, and nodding at his mother. ‘It’s amazing. I’m giving her a ten.’

A buzz went up around the tent while the other judges gathered round curiously, and Leandra glared at her son.

‘Carver, please!’ Leandra hissed in reproach, as the other judges busied themselves with trying Merrill’s cupcakes. ‘We’re supposed to keep our scores private until the judging!’

Carver had the decency to look abashed. ‘Sorry, Mother. And… sorry, Merrill. Mother’s right: I shouldn’t have said that out loud. But… your cakes are really nice.’

Merrill was blushing even more furiously by the time the judges departed her table, especially with all eyes now on her. Even though there was only interest in their gazes, she still felt nervous anyway: she wasn’t used to being the centre of attention.

When the judges reconvened at the head table, it was time for the bakers and their companions to mingle again; several friendly-looking people wandered over to make conversation about her cakes. Merrill started to relax a little at their polite questions; a few people bought them and the consensus was that they indeed tasted delicious. So engrossed was Merrill in answering their enthusiastic questions about ingredients, recipes and Dalish baking generally – it was so _nice_ to find people that were interested in Dalish food! – that she didn’t even notice that the judging was actually taking place… and completely missed who had won third and second place.

‘And the winner,’ Leandra beamed round at everyone as she spoke, ‘is… Merrill, and her beautiful little Dalish cupcakes!’

Applause rose from the tables in the tent, even a cheer seemed to go up in one corner; and a very self-conscious Merrill, flushed with pride, hurried to the front of the tent, dusting her summer dress down as she made her way up, anxious to look her best.

She _really_ hadn’t expected to win. All the other bakers were so good! Not that Merrill had tried all their creations, but the ones she _had_ tried – well, been offered – were certainly scrumptious, both in appearance and taste… how had she managed to win over all these other talented bakers?

As Leandra held out the huge bouquet of flowers to her, Merrill’s eyes strayed to Carver, seated behind his mother and applauding; and she was surprised to note he looked just as proud about her winning as she was. What was all that about?

Merrill tried to put it out of her mind as she walked back to her table, accepting people’s congratulations all the way; and as the judges dispersed and the crowd started to mingle again, Merrill couldn’t help noticing, as everyone clamoured round for a chance to purchase and try one of her cakes, that Carver was looming nearby, skulking awkwardly around the back of the crowd at her table, still staring at her.

Merrill couldn’t help herself; she was burning with curiosity. ‘Carver,’ she began, picking out a blue cupcake this time, ‘did you want to try another cupcake?’

He looked relieved at being singled out; the people in front of him turned to look at him in surprise as he made his way to the front, hand gratefully outstretched. ‘I would,’ he smiled, taking the cupcake from her. ‘Um… would it… would it be OK if – can I talk to you for a minute?’

Now it was Merrill’s turn to look surprised. ‘Of course,’ she said, stepping away from the table a little. ‘Um… I suppose it would be safe to leave the cakes here?’

He chuckled as he followed her. ‘Well, the cakes might be all gone when you get back – they were really good, after all… but I wasn’t going to keep you long. I just – I…’ He hesitated; suddenly he was looking anywhere _but_ her, despite staring at her so much earlier; and Merrill could see the colour rise in his cheeks as he fidgeted. ‘I – actually, I was wondering what you were doing later. If… you had any plans I could interrupt.’

Merrill furrowed her brow. ‘Well, I was just going to go home, I suppose, and I didn’t really have any plans, and…’

‘Wouldyouliketocomefordinnerwithme?’

Carver was now bright red, and his words had come out in a rush. Finally, Merrill understood. Her mind flashed back to his earlier behaviour, and she almost wanted to laugh at how naïve she’d been, that she hadn’t seen his interest in her earlier. She’d been so nervous about the baking competition, she supposed, that she’d missed the obvious.

And if she was honest… he was attractive. A date wouldn’t hurt, would it? He seemed nice enough, if a little awkward.

 _But that’s fine, Merrill_ , she reassured herself. _You can be awkward too! And rambly! In fact, you were awkward and rambly earlier, and he still asked you out, so_ …

Merrill smiled up at him; even as tall and broad as he was, the fact that he looked so shy and hopeful was endearing.

‘Yes,’ she answered, as he smiled at her in relief. ‘Thank you, Carver. I – I think I would like that.’

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello at [hollyand-writes.tumblr.com](http://hollyand-writes.tumblr.com)


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